


and i, the fast sinking anchor

by orphan_account



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Coming of Age, Fuckbuddies, M/M, Multi, Organized Crime, Tags will be updated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-15 15:49:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4612428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Your mother basically wants you to date nothing less than God, right?” Alibaba laughs.</p>
<p>Hakuryuu is on the fast track to taking over the family business after college. The thing is, his family is a lot bigger than he realizes. And a whole hell of a lot more dangerous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello, i haven't attempted a chaptered fic in years but hopefully this will work out okay, since i'm trying to have more chapters written than published at any given time!! this is a pure AU and anything resembling canon is just me drawing inspiration and probably doesn't mean as much as you think it does. the good news is that no one has died. huzzah, haku rens!  
>  **warnings** for a lot of nsfw. like... a lot. there's a lot of it. have i mentioned a lot of nsfw. i'm sorry. this really is a super self indulgent piece of work. **more warnings:** hiding sexuality, secret relationships, gyokuen, the gradual loosening of moral codes, vague suggestions of teacher/student relationships (but nothing comes to fruition, i promise-- an age difference that big does not sit well with me), kougyoku is treated kind of frustratingly at the beginning, oh and did i mention? organized crime? that's a thing. but i promise it doesn't get that dark, not yet.  
>  title from momentum by the hush sound.

//

 

 

Because this is a story about sex, it starts with sex.

Hakuryuu lets himself into Judar’s apartment because the man never locks his door -- it’s a bad habit of his, but one that is becoming progressively more convenient for Hakuryuu. Judar meets him halfway, gleefully flinging the door open all the way and dragging him inside. He’s casual today, has been casual for a while, after Hakuryuu accidentally walked in twenty minutes early while he was still fixing his eyeliner, turning around mournfully with one eye lined and the other bare. Hakuryuu kind of likes it.

Or, rather, he doesn’t care.

“Let me take off my shoes first,” Hakuryuu gasps as he’s more or less slammed against the door, mirror and all, shutting it. Judar pauses considerately for all of three seconds, which is enough for him to kick off one converse, before going at it again, slipping his bare thigh between Hakuryuu’s legs, crushing their lips together over and over again like he can’t get enough of it.

Hakuryuu _has_ had sex with people outside of Judar, no matter what anyone else says, but it’s never been like this, all-consuming and a whirlwind of motion. And he’s never been afraid the way he is with Judar, seizing up in the middle of it all sometimes because he’s sure all the fierceness is going to physically burn his body away from his soul. Judar doesn’t appear to have these symptoms, though: he’s cheerful as he gets Hakuryuu hot and bothered, laughing before grabbing his hand and leading him down the hall and into his room, half-made bed waiting.

“We could just -- on the couch, you know,” Hakuryuu says feebly, because there’s only one thing that’s never quite sat right with him when he spends time with Judar.

“I have people over who sit on that couch,” Judar replies indignantly, pushing Hakuryuu down on his bed and undoing the buttons of his shirt carefully, slowly, his lips a teasing caress to follow the part of fabric. Hakuryuu rolls his eyes and drags Judar up by the hair to kiss the lie away. It makes Judar laugh again, which just seems unfair to Hakuryuu: why should Judar, this wild mess of a human, be able to lose himself so wholly and joyfully whenever they meet up, while Hakuryuu, who has his life together, shudders every time Judar so much as touches him, shakes like an aspen leaf when it ends, clings for dear life, unwilling to let go?

“Hello-o-oo, earth to Hakuryuu!”

Hakuryuu blinks.

Judar grins down at him. “What d’you feel like doing today?”

Hakuryuu glances around the room, which is about as messy as one can expect from Judar. “Taking off my other shoe,” he says, and Judar’s eyes go _warm_.

“What _else_?” He nips at Hakuryuu’s nose, then at the beauty mark under his lip, grinds down on him hip to hip. “I mean, like, hotness-wise, what do you wanna do?”

Hakuryuu slips his hand up Judar’s sweater. Predictably, he’s got nothing on underneath. And -- it’s _cute_ , Hakuryuu thinks with a little bit of horror, it’s cute that he’s dressed like this, oversized, drapey white sweater and flimsy black underwear that Hakuryuu is convinced he’d seen in the women’s section when Alibaba dragged him to go present shopping for his cousins. “I want you to ride me,” he decides, sliding his hands down again, gripping Judar’s hips.

He’d meant for it to come out nondescript and neutral, but Judar looks like Christmas come early as he nods, working open Hakuryuu’s jeans, then stretching over his head to reach for lube, and then taking off his underwear -- in that order.

Hakuryuu says, accusingly, “You already prepped, didn’t you?”

“I might have, a little bit.”

Judar offers him a cheeky little smile that makes his hips jerk up involuntarily, but then the smile melts away as he feels Judar’s hands on him, slippery with lube, for a few moments before the slickness is replaced by something way tighter and way way hotter.

“Aaaa _aaaahh_ ,” sighs Judar. He pokes at his stomach, spans his palm just under his belly button and then looks straight into Hakuryuu’s eyes, heavy and glazed, as if to say _you’re here and I can practically feel it, that’s how **much** it is_.

“Yeah,” agrees Hakuryuu, a little stupidly. And then they don’t really talk anymore; all Hakuryuu can think about is how happy Judar looks, how they’re not even all the way naked and it doesn’t really matter, how good Judar looks with his cheeks flushed and the sarcasm fucked out of him in little moans of pleasure. He surges up and wraps his hand around the back of Judar’s neck to kiss him hard, and then Judar shudders in his lap and lets out a noise that sounds kind of like a sob, and falls apart.

“Ha-aakuryuu--”

“Yeah.” Judar drags a hand through the glistening mess on Hakuryuu’s stomach, smearing it over Hakuryuu’s mouth. Hakuryuu’s jaw stiffens for a second while he tries to control his voice, but it’s already been shot to hell anyway, so he just ends up letting go, moaning around Judar’s fingers as he comes hard with the taste of this crazy boy on his tongue.

Judar lifts himself off of Hakuryuu and tumbles over to the side, stretching out his arms. “Man, that was great.”

“That was --” Hakuryuu takes a moment to catch his breath, hand over his eyes.

“We should go again,” Judar pipes up, looking thoughtfully at the strip of Hakuryuu’s stomach, and then the way his jeans aren’t even all the way off. “Properly, with less clothing.”

Hakuryuu twitches a little. He pushes himself up and wanders, awkwardly with his pants halfway down his legs, into the bathroom to wipe himself off. A moment later Judar is crowding him into the bathroom to run a paper towel under the faucet, scraping up a trail of white leaking down the inside of his leg, and --

“God, you’re revolting,” Hakuryuu hisses, pinning him against the sink to kiss him, so hard that the back of his head meets the bathroom mirror.

*

It starts becoming a problem, Hakuryuu realizes, when he gets a paper back in his international business class and the red mark at the top says “82” for the fourth time in a row.

“So this dude, Judar,” Alibaba says the next morning while Hakuryuu hobbles around the kitchen to fix up breakfast for the two of them. He’d spent most of the night at Judar’s, ostensibly under the pretense of bad-grade-stress-fucking, when in reality it was Judar sticking peach rings in his mouth and forcing him to down six cups of tea while trying not to cry about the paper before any actual fucking had happened. “Are your parents okay with you seeing him?”

\-- and then Judar had shoved all of his troubles aside, just like how he shoved Hakuryuu down into bed, on his hands and knees --

“My father doesn’t really care,” Hakuryuu replies automatically, retrieving toast from the toaster before realizing that he hadn’t toasted any of it in the first place. He sets the dial to medium. “My mother… I don’t know.”

What he means is that his mother has no idea that her son has picked up some guy from the streets, fucks him on a regular basis, sabotaging his college career in the process, and finds himself more okay with this fact than is socially acceptable by any standard. He’s sure he never wants her to find out at all.

“Your mother basically wants you to date nothing less than God, right?” Alibaba laughs, and then pours two glasses of milk.

“You should know,” Hakuryuu mutters. “You’re practically marrying into that side of the family.”

“Relax, nothing’s official yet,” but Alibaba flushes, “Kouha says that Kouen’s still trying to pry criminal records out of Balbadd’s juvenile detention center.”

“Kouen wants to make sure Kouha dates no one less than God,” Hakuryuu informs him. “And you, Alibaba, are _way_ less than God.”

“That’s not what Kouha said last night.”

“That’s what Kougyoku told me last week.” Hakuryuu smirks.

Alibaba winces. “Kougyoku doesn’t even _know_ ,” he whines.

“So, how are you going to explain _that_ to my mother?” Hakuryuu fishes his toast back out and plops Alibaba’s mildly disgusting honey bread in its stead. “That you’re dating her husband’s son, not his daughter?” He layers a pile of scrambled eggs on his slice of toast. “Chinese-style tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Alibaba’s nose wrinkles as he watches Hakuryuu eat. Alibaba, the hard-boiled-or-death man who eats eggs with _honey bread_ , should have no opinions on Hakuryuu’s eating habits. “So what does Judar do?”

Hakuryuu pauses, considering. “I have no idea.”

“Is he, like, financially stable?”

“No idea.”

“... do you know _anything_ about him?”

“He prefers eating me out to sucking me off,” Hakuryuu says, irritably, but feels better when Alibaba’s cheeks turn redder than the ketchup he’s now contemplating for his hard-boiled egg. “He’s not my _boyfriend_.”

“He kinda sounds like he is.”

“Just because you have a boyfriend doesn’t mean everyone who sleeps with each other is dating,” Hakuryuu pauses, and then says, “cherry boy.”

“I’m sorry I waited until I was actually in love with someone to give myself to him,” Alibaba snaps, his entire face aflame with embarrassment.

“This is why you can’t take dating advice from a fifteen year old boy who still cries over Andersen’s fairy tales before bed.”

“Aladdin is the epitome of pureness, and he’s my best friend _before_ you --”

“-- he has six girlfriends.”

“... wow. Are they all still alive? Is _he_ still alive?”

“Yes, and yes, and yes, they all know about each other.” Hakuryuu gazes at the microwave. “I don’t know, either.”

Alibaba makes a sad noise. He reaches for the ketchup bottle and then douses it all over his egg. Hakuryuu watches, mildly fascinated but mostly disgusted, as he takes a large bite and hums in satisfaction. The disgust transmits itself onto his face loud and clear. Alibaba simply gives him the finger as he keeps eating. “You’ll find it delicious if you try.”

“I have tried, thank you.”

“You’re a lost cause,” Alibaba shakes his head. “So, library today? We can go through this paper together, maybe he’ll let you rewrite it for a better grade.”

Sometimes Hakuryuu has trouble remembering that Alibaba is actually older than he is, has taken the same track of courses he has. Alibaba has more influence among the professors in the department than he does, being the kind of guy that voluntarily goes to office hours and doing extra research when he isn’t occupied with pretending to be straight. If there’s anyone who can get him out of this mess, it’s probably Alibaba. He nods, and they let the argument drop; Alibaba finishes his ketchup egg with relish, stuffs bread into his mouth, and then downs his milk. Hakuryuu eats a little bit slower as Alibaba wanders back into their room to change.

He knows exactly why his grades have been dropping so steeply, satisfactory 97s falling away so quickly and casually -- it’s Judar.

Because Judar is so addicting, because he’s so easy and free to be himself, because no one bats an eyelash when he goes out wearing shorts that are made for girls, because he has thigh-high stockings in a variety of colors just for Hakuryuu, because Hakuryuu knows nothing about him but has seen more of him than pretty much anyone else in the world. Because the promise of seeing more keeps him coming back, helpless and desperate. Because he wants to brush away Judar’s messy hair and figure out what’s making his crazy brain tick.

There is nothing as addicting about school, the endless grind of papers and exams and projects, nothing to keep him going except for occasional texts from Yuu and Ren and the threat of a home-cooked meal from Hakuei.

Except Hakuryuu can’t fathom backing out now.

Yuu and Ren are more than capable of carrying on the family business, but none of his generation -- not him, not his siblings -- can forget the way his mother looked at him when she left their family, promising that he’ll turn out to be a genius, _my cute little Hakuryuu_. And it isn’t even that: Hakuryuu can’t fathom the idea of letting down his brothers, his sister, even Alibaba, annoying as he gets sometimes.

And Judar is just what he is, someone that Hakuryuu goes to when he’s finished with his obligations, someone who provides mystery and a good fuck, not someone who’s about to decide the course of his entire life just because his eyelids shimmer, because he’s the only person in the world who willingly listens to every last thing Hakuryuu has to say and reacts just the way he wants.

Suddenly the presence of scrambled eggs on his toast look a lot less appetizing.

Hakuryuu sighs, and reaches for the ketchup bottle.

*

**from Judar**

[08:35] hey, u busy this afternoon  
[08:35] lets hang out!!!

[08:36] i have the day off & u dont have class tmrw right

[08:42] ryuuuuuuu

[10:27] k well lmk :**

**from Hakuryuu**

[14:20] busy  
[14:27] Sorry

 

 

//  **tbc**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ft. kou siblings and clubbing. this takes place about half a semester later than chapter 1.

 

 

Alibaba beams down at him, all sparkles in his eyes and endearing smile. “Yes!” he crows, “I knew you could do it, always had a bit of a genius in you, didn’t you, Hakuryuu?”

Hakuryuu feels elated, in a roundabout, detached sort of way. The paper, stapled and bound in his hands, has a red 98 on it with an encouraging note from the professor -- _keep up the good work, I know you can succeed if you apply yourself_ \-- but he’s more occupied with thinking about all the things he has to tell Judar the next time they see each other.

Still, he smiles back. Alibaba gives him a high five. “So, we can do something fun this weekend, right?”

“Mhm. Yes.” Hakuryuu thinks about it for a moment. “There’s a new movie coming out on Friday.”

“That’s not _enga--_ ” Alibaba cuts himself off, the gears in his head turning, locking into places. Hakuryuu’s smile turns just a little bit sharper. The movie is nondescript -- some formulaic action comedy featuring a plain looking protagonist and a love interest with a surgically enhanced chest and eyebrows that could probably slice diamonds -- but the real attraction, of course, is the club next to the theater. The newly opened club, in fact. “ _Ooohhhh_. Yeah, let’s go! We can bring Kouha and Kougyoku, right?”

Hakuryuu nods.

“I’m kind of surprised, though,” Alibaba says next, “you never want to go out.”

Hakuryuu shrugs. “I’m almost old. I should probably get on with my life.”

“You mean you’re trying to get over him, aren’t you?”

Hakuryuu shrugs again. “There’s not a lot to get over.”

It’s a lie and they both know it, but Alibaba changes the subject, moving on from whatever had crashed and burned about Hakuryuu and Judar into what they should wear to go clubbing so as to not embarrass both themselves and the redheaded siblings, whose tastes in fashion were on the striking, expensive, and highly questionable side.

“Do you even have clothes that are flashy enough to go clubbing in?” Alibaba asks, rifling through his closet -- which is rich coming from him, since the flashiest thing _he_ owns is a gladiator costume from two Halloweens ago that Kouha apparently found _very_ attractive.

Hakuryuu pulls out a black tank top.

They both make a face.

“Don’t you sleep in this?”

“It’s not like I need to look club-ready for my day-to-day life.”

“Do you have anything, like… shiny? Jewelry? A long earring, fuck, I don’t know --” Alibaba looks distraught, which makes Hakuryuu laugh despite himself.

“Maybe you should be worrying about your own clothes, in case Kouha steps in and demand that you wear nothing but those bright right boxer shorts.”

“That’s for after the club,” Alibaba explains as the joke sails over his head.

Right. Hakuryuu sighs. “I don’t have any jewelry, but I can text Ju--”

Alibaba slaps a palm into his forehead. “Wait! Who am I kidding, I have all these earrings from Balbadd, so --”

“I don’t have my ears pierced,” Hakuryuu says slowly, dread crawling down his spine.

“Oh, don’t worry -- I’ve done it loads of times, and not just on ears.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel _better_?”

“It’s supposed to make you feel impressed,” Alibaba tries. He mostly fails.

*

So comes Friday night, Alibaba and Hakuryuu meeting Kouha and Kougyoku at the foot of the stairs.

Kougyoku’s wearing four-inch heels, long hair tied up in a pretty bow at the top of her neck, her eyes heavy with liner, but she gives a happy little chirp when she catches sight of Alibaba, melting from cold and aloof and princess-like to an excited kid in a matter of seconds. Alibaba, who is wearing basically what he wears to class, except with a more daring color scheme, scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck and Hakuryuu watches the two of them do a long, elaborate handshake.

While the handshake goes on, he and Kouha grasp each other’s hands briefly and normally.

“How’s things?” Kouha asks, shivering in the flimsiest shirt Hakuryuu has ever seen -- slits up his sides and the entire thing held together by magic, probably.

“Good.”

“Any word from --”

“No.”

“Ah, well, any day now, huh? Hey, tiger.” The last part is addressed to Alibaba, who turns and grasps his fingers fleetingly. “The fuck are you wearing?”

“I-- I, I mean, I didn’t have --”

Kouha eyes him for a moment, and then laughs and wraps an affectionate arm around his waist. “Chill out, I was only kidding. You’re not going to need this shirt in the future, are you?”

“N..no?”

“Oh, good.” Kouha takes a pair of scissors from God knows where and sets to work, murmuring as he snips here and there, making Alibaba’s face flush as he exposes more and more skin. There’s a little pile of black scraps in his palm when he’s done, which he turns and tosses into the trash can as they pass, leaving Alibaba wrapping his jacket tight around his suddenly bare midriff.

Kouha laughs again and swipes the jacket away. “Don’t be embarrassed, you worked so hard on those abs.” He pauses for a moment, and then throws the jacket around Kougyoku’s shoulders.

It’s weird to see the three of them together, weirder to know that for all Alibaba and Kougyoku cling to each other, Alibaba keeps throwing these _looks_ at Kouha. Hakuryuu thinks they’ve worked it out okay, though, when they pile into the dark rows of the theater with Alibaba sandwiched between them, and his and Kouha’s hands find each other and twine like a promise.

Kougyoku, after doing a bit of last minute texting, leans her head on Hakuryuu’s shoulder and promptly falls asleep.

Hakuryuu starts dozing himself, wondering if it’s really worth it to suffer through a few hours of dancing and loud music just to prove that he doesn’t miss having mind blowing orgasms every other day, when Kougyoku’s phone starts buzzing against his leg.

_incoming call. Ka Koubun..._

He picks up the thing to silence it when he sees the screen:

**20:03 Ka Koubun**

_I know you’re wearing your teal shorts your mother is really angry about this I’m going to the cinema right now to bring you a knee-length skirt okay?_

_Why does she even keep him around_ , he wonders, but the next line down is something far more alarming.

**20:02 Judar (◕‿◕✿)**

_hey gyoku did u steal my eyeliner wtf_

Judar?

_Judar_?

The first thought he has after that is, strangely, one of relief: so Judar is alive, and he’s okay, he’s been okay! Then he feels ridiculous for getting so worked up about a guy he doesn’t even know that well. So -- he got busy, they both got busy, they haven’t met for two and a half months, they were never exclusive, he has _school_ to worry about. And then, startlingly hollow against his chest, is a low, throbbing pain.

He realizes a moment later that it’s just his heart, beating hard enough to hurt.

He’d always know that Judar was a mystery, but for some reason, he’d always thought Judar was _his_ mystery. That voice, those eyes, the clinging fingers -- Hakuryuu looks at Kougyoku’s sleeping face in the dark and wonders if she’s seen it all. If she knows.

While he’s staring, again, the phone buzzes again.

**20:06 Judar (◕‿◕✿)**

_i need this shit ok the other one is running out fucking hell gyoku look at ur phone_

And then, before he can even think about putting the phone down:

**20:06 Judar (◕‿◕✿)**

_nvm sry. forgot it was date night gl with ur prof dude lmao_

Hakuryuu gapes.

Professor?

Unbidden, his international business professor rises to mind: stern and pale, moonlit hair, freckles across his nose that make him look younger than he probably is. He’s got to be at least in his late twenties, or something. Hakuryuu tries to imagine, for a moment, his professor with Kougyoku clinging to his arm before dismissing that as the worst possible mental image he’s had in a while, including the time he walked in on Alibaba and Kouha and what looked like a large golden hammer.

By the time Kougyoku wakes up and the audience is clapping alongside the ending credits in the dark, he’s moved on to more important thoughts.

“Ka Koubun is waiting outside,” he murmurs as she fumbles around with her phone. A little gasp, and then an annoyed flicker of her eyebrow later, they make the unanimous decision to exit from the less used side doors.

It’s completely dark by now, no sliver of light at the edge of the horizon. Kouha and Alibaba, both looking suspiciously refreshed, are talking rapidly about the movie and the love interest’s eyebrows while they wait for Kougyoku to touch up her makeup in the bathroom.

“Hey, is Kougyoku dating someone?” he asks quietly.

Kouha shoots him an annoyed look. “You mean my boyfriend?”

“No, I mean… is she seeing someone outside the family?”

“Wait, wait, I’m not technically _in_ the f--”

“Someone older?”

Kouha’s annoyed expression doesn’t change, but Alibaba starts fidgeting. “She mentioned she was crushing on some guy a while ago.”

“Really? _Who_?”

“I dunno, some literary guy I think?”

“How come I don’t know about this?”

“Well, she’s not technically dating both of us, is she?”

“... alright. Whatever, ugh. Here she comes, act natural.”

Kougyoku flounces out through the door, her steps unbelievably light and fluid even with the four-inch heels, and Hakuryuu can’t help but start staring.

“What is it? Did I mess up the left wing again?”

“No, it’s --” Hakuryuu can’t say that he feels slightly sucker punched, so he settles for a soft, “it looks great,” instead. Kougyoku beams at him.

“Great, shall we?”

She leads them down the street, just a few meters of walking under the merry lights of the city and the rush of late-night adrenaline drives before they arrive at the club.

It’s pretty typical, at least: backlit counter at the bar, strobelights and eager bodies writhing together, pounding bass beats straddled by fluid, twisting limbs. Hakuryuu hasn’t gone clubbing for years, probably, not since the first week of college when Alibaba decided to expose him to the livelier parts of the city nightlife and they’d both regretted it sorely the next morning, between the headache and vomit and cheery morning-people neighbors.

Kouha’s tugging Alibaba into the crowd at once, exhilarated eyes brightening, and then Kougyoku’s eyes flash like gems under the lights and she pushes Alibaba’s jacket into Hakuryuu’s hand and disappears as well.

Hakuryuu rolls his eyes. It’s a bit like going to the pool -- you’re either in, or you’re out, and hovering at the edge is always awkward as hell. He pockets his phone and hangs up the jacket and checks to make sure his earrings are still there, dangling and blue (true to his word, Alibaba had not damaged anything), and steps towards the wave of the crowd.

He’s barely three steps into the song when an arm snakes around his torso from behind, and a warm mass pushes itself up against his back.

“Knew you’d be here,” whispers a voice in his ear: it’s a warm, husky voice, and Hakuryuu turns around before he can help himself, weeks and weeks of tension leaving his body slumped forwards into a wiry one.

“Judar,” he gasps, his hands coming up to grasp at dark, messy strands of hair, and then they’re kissing, Hakuryuu sinking into it like a man starved, helpless moans caught in the air between them. “Judar, Judar.”

“Yeah, I got you,” Judar groans, “holy shit, I got you.”

Hakuryuu closes his eyes and lets his body do the rest for him. Judar walks them away from the nucleus of throbbing beats and into a quieter, cooler corner as they kiss, over and over again, and the song croons over a electronic backdrop. He’s convinced nothing will get better than this, pulling sweetness away from Judar’s lips with his own, with nothing to worry about except for the pace of their movements lining up with the music.

“Hey, hey. Slow down, I got you,” Judar says, after a few minutes, his words slurred and his lips swollen, in the uncertain lighting his eyes look glazed, drunk with something fierce and happy. “We can take our time about it, okay? You haven’t had any drinks, have you?”

Hakuryuu takes a deep breath to say something, but the words catch in his throat and he merely shakes his head before arching up for another kiss, pressed up so tightly against the other that he’s certain they’ll never come apart again.

“ _Hakuryuu_ ,” Judar tries again, “are you okay? What’s going on?”

_I **missed** you_ , Hakuryuu wants to say, and the syllables come out choking and frightened because he really has no right to say any of it. Their relationship isn’t one built on feelings and words, after all.

“You wanna ditch? I’m supposed to be playing wingman for Ko--”

A small and fast blur comes in from behind Judar, who has his back to the crowd. Before Hakuryuu can react, it strikes, the force of it so brutal that his body jerks. Judar’s eyes widen for a split second, and then his eyelids fall closed and his grip goes lax and he crumples down into the floor, unmoving.

 

 

//  **tbc**

 

 


End file.
